


Safe In His Arms

by Amahami



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Dysphoria, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Graphic Description, Medication, No Incest, No Romance, No Slash, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Own Voices, Restored Alphonse Elric, Trans Alphonse Elric, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unspecified Setting, ambiguous setting, and has relevant experience for this fic, no attraction whatsoever, unconventional sibling relationships, writer is a trans man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amahami/pseuds/Amahami
Summary: Alphonse is a trans man, and he needs to use vaginal oestrogen to repair the atrophy caused by testosterone....He's absolutely miserable and in pain from it. Ed helps him apply the medication and helps him through the resulting dysphoria.Ed and Al are NOT in any kind of sexual or romantic relationship. Ed does help Al use it, but it is non-sexual, clinical, and platonic/brotherly.Could be post-canon or an AU.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric
Kudos: 16





	Safe In His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for bottom dysphoria and graphic use of an internal vaginal cream.
> 
> I have fully projected onto Al here, and his experiences are almost all mine.
> 
> Al uses the same terminology I use - vagina, labia, and, though I don't think I mention it here, clitoris.
> 
> Al is in his twenties and has been on testosterone for a couple years.
> 
> This has not been beta'd, as this isn't something my lovely beta is comfortable reading. 
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

Al stared at the box in his hands.

The worst medication he could ever think to take; the hormone he despised with every bit of his being and did everything he could to avoid.

Oestrogen.

Well, estradiol.

But his vagina ached and ached and ached and he couldn't put as much as a finger into himself without pain.

It had been nice at first, since he loved a rough fuck, but then it got worse.

His gynecologist said his vagina was atrophied, along with his uterus - but he hadn't cared about that latter one.

She had said the best way to help the atrophy without interfering with his HRT was to use oestrogen cream.

_ Inside _ his vagina.

He was desperate so he said okay and she got him the prescription and explained exactly how much he needed to use and how to…  _ apply it. _

Al didn't experience bottom dysphoria very often, and he was comfortable having a vagina, and didn't want to get rid of it.

He loved how his genitals were set up… Except for when he could feel dampness coming from his vagina. He shuddered just thinking about it.

But he couldn't stand the pain of an atrophied vagina anymore.

...And that left him sat on his bed with nothing on his bottom half, tube of cream in one hand and insertion device in the other.

Staring at them.

The insertion device wasn't big -- only about the diameter of a finger -- but when any insertion hurts, even something that size was a bit anxiety-inducing. It was basically a tampon but for cream instead of a cotton plug.

The biggest problem for him, though, was that he was meant to put in the  _ wrong hormone. _

He studied the insertion device some more, and realised the measurement options were considerably larger than what he was told to use; he'd been told to use a pea-sized bit of cream, but the smallest amount in the device was 1g, which was enough to fit at least a dozen peas.

He had to do this without the insertion device.

He took a slow, deep, calming breath and opened the tube. He squeezed out a pea-sized amount of cream onto his index finger and closed the tube

Al stared at his finger. Then at his crotch. Then back to his finger.

"Fuck," he muttered.

He could do this. The longer he waited the worse it would be.

He laid down and spread his legs, then gently inserted his finger into his vagina.

And it  _ hurt _ and he ignored the searing burn and kept going, but his finger got caught on his urethral opening, since his vagina was so small from the atrophy.

Al hissed and readjusted himself, then once he got his finger as far in as he could get it, he swiped his finger along his vaginal walls.

Al groaned in disgust as he pulled his finger out of himself.

There was cream all over his finger, and he knew there was plenty on his urethral opening -- he could feel it -- but not much stayed in his vagina. 

He grimaced before reinserting his finger. He tried to get the cream off and get it to stay where it belonged. It didn't work.

He gave up after that attempt, however, because he could feel the dysphoria creeping up on him.

He grabbed a pillow and put it under his butt to elevate it a bit, wiped his hands on his bed, then grabbed the book on his nightstand and started reading.

Just a page in and Al was distracted from his book by the substance he could feel slowly escaping his vagina.

He grimaced again. He needed to lay in bed for a few hours to make sure it absorbed properly, and he had plenty of time and had made sure there were books, snacks, and glasses of water in easy reach.

He'd forgotten to prepare for the dysphoria. All he wanted was to shower and get the grossness out of his insides.

Al hated it so much. He couldn't focus on anything else. He eventually gave up on reading and just stared at the ceiling.

Al squirmed, then realised it was making the dampness worse so he stopped, but he was so horribly uncomfortable and the dysphoria was so bad…

He just closed his eyes.

He hated taking naps, but he couldn't do it. The feeling of the cream inside him and moving and escaping his vagina was indescribably uncomfortable and disgusting and distressing...

So he took a nap.

He woke up to Ed knocking on his door.

"Al?" he said through the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Al said habitually.

Ed walked in with a bag of takeout in one hand, freezing as soon as he took in Al's compromising position. Al was still wearing absolutely nothing other than his shirt, and his genitals were pointed in the air by the pillow under his hips.

"Uh???" Ed asked intelligently.

Al sat up slowly with a grimace and grabbed his underpants. He slipped them on as he said, "I used the oestrogen cream today. Took a nap afterwards and forgot I was undressed. Sorry, Brother."

Al wasn't particularly sorry. Ed and Al had both seen each other in all manner of compromising positions. This was considerably more mild than most of those.

Ed nodded, grimacing sympathetically. He raised the bag up in front of Al's face. "Want some Xingese? If I'd known you were doing that today, I'd have gotten dinner from that Cretan food cart you love so much, but…" Ed shrugged helplessly.

Al grabbed the pajama bottoms from the other end of his bed and yanked them on as he stood up. He may have felt like shit, but he couldn't say no to takeout.

_____

A few days later, it was time to do the oestrogen cream again. Al did the same thing as before -- he removed the clothes on the lower half of his body and prepared pillows to put his hips on.

Al carefully squeezed a pea-sized amount onto his finger and manoeuvred it into the applicator that came with his oestrogen. He marked where the line was for his dosage, then stared at the applicator.

_ Fuck _ . He didn't want to do this. But it needed to go deeper in, and it needed to stay there. So Al needed to use the applicator to get it there.

He laid down, carefully inserted the applicator -  _ ow ow ow ow! _ \- and went until he felt the pressure against his atrophied cervix. He pulled back a touch and depressed the plunger thing, hard, before carefully pulling it out of himself.

He looked at the applicator to make sure the cream was inside him, then let it drop on the floor next to his bed.

He tried to get his hips onto the pillows but it wouldn't work and he gave up and laid down and cried.

He felt awful, he could feel the cream inside him, his dysphoria was excruciating, and he felt so emasculated in all the worst ways.

He wallowed until he dozed off, tears drying on his cheeks.

Ed poked his head in not much later to ask if he was up to eating the pizza Ed had made or if his stomach would rebel against it.

Al startled awake and quickly wiped his eyes, but Ed definitely saw the tear tracks. 

Ed hurried in and sat next to Al. "Are you upset because of the cream?" he asked.

Al nodded, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, and tried to explain, "It's difficult technically because of the angle required. But it requires penetration, so it hurts."

Ed nodded in understanding so Al continued, "It also feels like discharge, which is so--" he cut himself off to huff in disgust and discomfort.

Ed reached over and clasped Al's hand between his in silent support.

"It feels so wrong, and emasculating in the bad way, and it just makes me feel so  _ shitty!" _

Ed laid down on his side next to Al and draped an arm and a leg over him. "You're the handsomest, smartest, strongest, most amazing man I know. You've done so many amazing things, and I love you so much, Alphonse. You're the best brother ever."

Al held Ed's arm close to his and breathed in the scent of  _ home _ that was Ed and tried unsuccessfully not to cry.

"It doesn't feel like it," Al mumbled after a minute.

Ed squeezed him in his arms. "You are; it doesn't matter what your awful brain claims."

The corner of Al's lips twitched.

"Hey, Al," Ed said a few moments later, sounding like he had an idea, "would it help if I administered your medicine?"

Al took a few minutes to really consider it, and Ed kept quiet as he held him, letting him take the time to think.

"Maybe?" Al said after a bit. "I have to do it again in a few days, and I'm willing to let you try."

Ed smiled. "I hope I can help you," he whispered into Al's ear. Al giggled at the sensation and swatted his brother's face away.

"You're already helping, naught-for-brains."

Ed just rolled his eyes and waved a hand in dismissal. "I gave all my brains to you."

Al shook his head and snuggled into his brother. Ed always seemed to know what he needed, and he was beyond grateful he had him in his life.

____

The days passed quickly, and then it was time for the oestrogen cream.

He called Ed into his room and took his bottoms off after he told his brother to wash his hands.

Al put the appropriate amount of cream into the applicator and laid down with his hips on a pillow to wait for Ed to come back.

Ed entered the room holding his arms like surgeons do, which made Al chuckle.

Ed stood at his side. "Okay, what do I do?" he asked.

Once Al explained what Ed needed to do, he nodded and went to stand at the foot of Al's bed.

Ed's face went red as he looked at Al's genitals, grimacing.

"Is there something wrong with my genitals?" Al asked, worried. He didn't think something could have gone dangerously wrong in the two weeks it'd been since he saw his gynæcologist.

"No! No, sorry, nothing's wrong. It's just. This is the only vagina I've ever seen, and I'm torn between scientific curiosity and horror. Since they're your genitals, not because anything's wrong with them."

"I can do it myself," Al said, not  _ really _ wanting to, but if doing it for him he would make Ed uncomfortable, then he would.

Ed shook his head. "No, I can do it." He looked at Al's genitals again.

"Uh, do I… touch it?" he asked hesitantly.

Al snorted. "That's how you get to the opening,  _ known scientific genius _ ." Al paused. "I can hold it open if you'd like," he offered hesitantly.

Ed shrugged, took a deep breath, and gently touched Al's labia. He used an index finger and thumb to spread them, then gently inserted the applicator.

Al tensed and hissed while he inhaled. Ed removed the applicator and his hands from Al in panic.

"I'm sorry, Al, I'm so sorry, I knew I'd do it wrong, I shouldn't have done this, I'm so sorry how can I help?" Ed said loudly, near-shouting.

"Brother, you were doing just fine," Al said in exasperation.

"In what way? What are you talking about? I was hurting you!" Ed glared at his hands.

"It always hurts, Brother. But it's easier and less painful when someone else does it, since others have more and better angles to insert it at than me."

"So this hurting you is," Ed hesitated for a moment, trying to find the word, "normal?"

"It's relatively normal for trans men, but that's why I'm using these meds: to help my vagina regain its flexibility and all that, so it doesn't hurt in the future."

Ed nodded, slowly digesting what Al just said. After a few moments he re-approached Al's genitals.

"So, even if it hurts you, keep going?" Ed asked, wanting to confirm.

"Correct," Al said. "I'll say stop when I feel you reach my cervix. Just pull the applicator back a little bit when I do, then go ahead and push down the plunger thingy." 

Al had already told Ed all of this, but that knowledge seemed to have been lost when Ed actually went to do it.

Ed nodded, tentative confidence on his face. 

"How will I know if I need to pull it out immediately?" he asked.

Al rolled his eyes. "I'll say “pull it out,” genius."

Ed nodded. "Okay. Ready?"

"Ready."

Ed spread Al's labia again and slowly inserted the applicator.

Al hissed and tensed up again, but Ed only stuttered in his task that time.

Al was uncomfortable and in good amount of genital pain, and it was awful.

Al felt the telltale twinge of the plastic hitting his cervix, so he said "stop."

"That's your cervix?" Ed asked.

"Yeah."

Ed nodded and pulled the applicator out a bit and then pushed down on the plunger.

He pulled the applicator out and looked at Al. "Now what?" he asked.

"You can just leave the applicator on my dresser. I'll wash it when I get up." Al said. He could feel the cream in his vagina and he grimaced, dysphoria metaphorically punching him in the face.

Ed set the applicator down on Al's dresser and asked, "Would physical contact be of benefit?"

Al nodded immediately.

Ed carefully got into Al's bed and curled up on his side next to him, holding him.

Ed began to talk about how strong Al was, how he had more balls than most cis men, that he was amazing and helpful and so much more.

Then Ed started telling stories while Al mostly zoned out. Whenever he felt the cream move he tensed up, and Ed rubbed Al's arm in support as he continued speaking without any sign that he wasn't totally focused on telling the story.

The dysphoria calmed itself after only a few hours, thanks to Ed's help, and it was also a much less painful experience than it had been before.

Al knew it was an incredibly weird and kinda gross thing to happen, but it made him feel safer emotionally as well as physically better, so he'd take it, regardless of what others might think.

Ed was there for him, he'd helped him and held him and reminded him he's not a burden and that needing oestrogen didn't invalidate his being a man  _ or _ his being trans… And it meant more to him than words could say.

Ed even held him close to help ground Al in the aftermath of such a painful and dysphoria-inducing procedure.

Ed was the best brother in the entire world.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a trans man, and have been writing this while I wait out my hours waiting for my own oestrogen cream to absorb into my vagina.
> 
> It's miserable and I hate it, but putting Al through it, and giving him the help I don't have, has helped a lot.
> 
> Also, since I reached moderate levels of atrophy, I can very easily and clearly feel even a light brush against my cervix. I don't know if other trans folks have experienced this, but I have.
> 
> Anybody who thinks dysphoria is required to be trans is not welcome here, and all comments insinuating or saying as such will be deleted.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
